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By the time I find him, Nick’s at the top of the ladder, disappearing into the loft. How does he move like that?

“Can I have my list back?” I yell into the rafters. I’ve lost sight of him. “What are we picking up?” Surely Marthe didn’t expect me to do this on my own.

“You’re not the only one Mom gave jobs to.” He reappears with a heavy canvas banner slung over a shoulder and descends the ladder with ease. “Grab the pie boxes over there while I put this in the truck.”

He disappears outside, and I hunt around the barn for the spot he vaguely pointed at. Toward the back is a door, and no pie boxes anywhere, so I push through it to see if there’s a storeroom on the other side. Instead, I find a picturesque kitchen garden bathed in afternoon light. Next to a pond is a timber gazebo carved with blossoms, and I wander toward it. Vines twist their way through the structure, bare of leaves at this time of year. There’s one like it in town, down by the creek. Same craftsman, if I had to guess.

Out here, the part of my brain that never shuts up has nothing to say. New York never managed that. Neither did the Hamptons, and there are eleven acres there.

As I circle it, my hands tracing the smooth wood, a smaller building comes into view attached to the back of the barn, one I didn’t see on the way past. Constructed of white sheet metal with refrigeration units on the side, it feels out of place among the rustic farm buildings.

Weaving through the garden to the structure, I walk the length of it. No windows. Maybe it’s storage for the events they run here…

The metal siding is torn open. Five parallel marks cut through the paint and into the steel underneath, curving toward the heavy door now swinging from one hinge. The digital keypad flashes, dangling from frayed wires. The marks end in a dark red splotch, near the handle. It’s dripped down the door and dried partway. I lean in and hold my hand up against it, fingers spread wide. Whatever it was, it had hands not much bigger than mine. Everything in me says move, and I’m already stepping back when I stumble over a rock.

“Nick!” I scream as loud as I can.

Chapter 20

Nick

Ellery’s scream pierces through the air, and I’m at her side before her next breath.

“What’s wrong?” I’ve got her by the elbows, fighting the urge to run my hands over every inch of her to make sure she’s unharmed.

“Blood?” She points at the cool room.

Damn it. I was careless to let her wander around on her own.

Claw marks scratch the paint, denting the metal. The door is swinging from one hinge. Broken glass litters the ground, and from the smell, the red smear is blood, put there by a vampire I don’t recognize. We store shipments from the blood bank here before they’re distributed to the vampires in Ravenslight Creek. It was hungry. Constantin can’t deny there’s an intruder within the boundary of our lands now.

I sense nothing in the woods near the property. It’s long gone. I’ll come back after dark and search more thoroughly, but first, I need to get Ellery out of here.

“Probably a bear.” I return my attention to her, playing down the threat to keep her calm. The lie comes out easily, which I don’t like at all. Six weeks of listening to her heart, and I’ve stopped having to translate. She’s shaken.

“We store meat in here. They’re always trying to get their paws on whatever they can this time of year.” I take her hand, weaving my cool fingers into her clammy palm. She doesn’t object, only grips mine tighter. “We should go.”

Tucked against the door of my truck, she wraps her arms around herself, so I crank the heat. My hand rests between us on the vinyl bench seat, and my fingers curl under to stop myself from reaching for her. Ten days of keeping my distance, undone by one scream, and I’d do it again.

“What are my chances of crossing paths with a ravenous bear?” She turns in her seat to face me. “Do I need, like, bear spray or something? I mean, I’ve watched enough Alone that my ‘hey, bear’ game is on point, but do I need something extra if they’re peeling doors off to get inside?” She presses on, not waiting for an answer. “I’ve heard moose are not to be trifled with, either. Is there an anti-moose cologne? What about beavers? They look cute, but maybe they want us to think that.”

“Don’t go wandering around the woods on your own and you’ll get home to your elevators and your doorman just fine.”

Fuck. Why did I say that?

“There it is.” She says it almost pleasantly, back from the brink of panic. “I wondered how long that would take. For the record, I don’t have a doorman.”

I pull into the driveway of Ravenscrest without answering, and tell myself the only thing I can afford to think about right now is that vampire.

“Can you take the banner to Mom’s booth?” I ignore her dig. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, wait.” She jumps out as I do and races around to stand in my way. “You were all about helping five minutes ago, and now you’re leaving me alone? With all this, I mean?”

“I need to speak to someone. Then I’ll come help, okay?”

I leave her fuming by the truck. At least if she’s angry and busy, she’s not spiraling, and I have to make Constantin listen.

Inside, I make my way past the hunting lodge façade with its stuffed animals and mounted shotguns to the private lounge at the rear of the building where the older vampires spend their time drinking and talking like it’s a Victorian-era gentlemen’s club that considers itself progressive because it let women join. The old vampire sits in a leather chair in the dark, close enough to the roaring fire that a human would find it uncomfortable. Physically, he appears in his mid-twenties, but his body is a shell for an ancient, weary being that believes he’s above all of us.